A Kind Of Friendship
by gallifreyinsanitey
Summary: Dean and Castiel have something . A connection. If nothing more they have an understanding. A kind of friendship. And even though all can be explained, it is destiny, fate, God, Castiel can't possibly find words to explain this. /- Destiel. One-shot. Deathfic.


**Title:** A Kind Of Friendship  
**Fandom:** Supernatural  
**Pairing: **Destiel**  
Category: **Deathfic / Hurt-Comfort / Angst  
**Type:** One-Shot  
**Warnings:** deathfic  
**Disclaimer:** I unfortunately do not own any rights regarding Supernatural and its characters.  
**Summery**: Dean and Castiel have something . A connection. If nothing more they have an understanding. A kind of friendship. And even though all can be explained, it is destiny, fate, God, Castiel can't possibly find words to explain this. (Additional Information: Sam has already freed Lucifer)  
**[A/N]:** Alright, so I wrote this in the middle of the night, and I wrote it because I was in so much heart-broken pain that was forced onto me by the life-ruining series that is Supernatural. So yeah, I decided to write this and for once I actually quite like what came out of it and I hope you will enjoy this too. Loads of love and I'll see you soon. Ps: Proud that I finally uploaded a fanfic to this account :)

**A Kind Of Friendship**

Castiel's POV

I like to plan things before they happen, I like to watch all the beautiful possibilities dance in my mind. Maybe it is because you can't actually plan it. Life. It just happens, it just happens as it is God's will. I know people tend not to believe in this. Destiny, fate, God. But I do. Because after all I am an angel.

I smile as I sit on the bed in the shady motel room. I smile as the door slowly opens. I smile as Dean enters. But my smile fades as I see the look on his face, the look that means death.

"Who?", I simply whisper, but regret even asking as a bad feeling creeps up inside of me. The feeling of knowledge. I know Dean well, very well, and I know when he's sad. I know when he has seen death. For the past couple of days I had to see that look on his face way too often. Too many people had died, too many people he was close to. Ellen. Jo. Bobby. But never, never have I seen an expression like this on his face, an expression of pure pain, of pure hopelessness.

Dean manages to take the view steps to get to the bed. Then he just stands there. And then he just falls. I catch him and pull him into my arms. It doesn't matter that I'm not supposed to do this, it doesn't matter that it should be wrong to hold him like this. Yes, it _should_ be wrong, but it's not. It's not, because we have something. A connection. If nothing more we have an understanding. A kind of friendship. And I know that Dean needs me. Now. He collapses into my arms and then the tears just start to flow. One after the other they just escape his eyes and they don't seem to stop. He is breathing hard, trying to find the strength to form a sentence, but he can't. So we just sit there, and I hold him, tight. I just comfort him, I just give him what he needs. And then suddenly, after a while, I don't know after how long exactly, I had lost track of time, but what is time anyways, right, his mouth opens. And I feel a tear escape my own eyes as I hear Dean speak with a voice I had never heard from him, a hopelessness I had never heard from him, and even though I had figured, it hurts as the truth escapes him. A stutter. A cry. Whatever it is, it is this. "Sam".

Then Dean just collapses back into my arms, desperately clinging to my trench coat and I just hold him and I feel hot tears streaming down my own face, because it just can't be true. After all the people we have lost, we just can't have lost Sam.

We sit there and cry, and we don't have to say a word. We sit there and cry until darkness has reached the window, until we fall back and until we drift into an uneasy sleep, both of us, exhausted from crying, exhausted from fighting, exhausted from life. And we fall asleep in the same bed, next to each other, Dean still in my arms. And it should be wrong, but it feels like the most natural thing ever. Because we have something. A kind of friendship.

xx

I wake up, suddenly. It is still dark. I shift uneasily and close my eyes again. Then I notice it. I feel cold. I sit straight up, scanning the room for Dean, who is no longer lying in bed next to me. I breathe a sigh of relieve as I spot him sitting on the foot end of the bed, his face buried in his hands.  
"Dean?", I whisper in a low voice and move so I'll sit right behind him.  
Dean turns around, his face swollen, red, so swollen and so red that I can even make it out in the darkness that is surrounding us. Dean just sits there and looks at me. Until, after a moment, he breaks the silence. "Why? Why, Castiel?" I close my eyes in pain, because the way he says it, the way he sounds so broken, breaks me. "I don't know, Dean", I simply whisper and it is the truth. I have always thought there was a reason for everything, just something that could explain the most horrible things. If nothing rational then destiny, fate, God. But now, I had no explanation. I just honestly did not see how this could be destiny or fate, or worst of all God.

Dean sighs and I am afraid he'll start crying again, but he doesn't. And somehow, that is even worse. Because now he just sits there and looks at me with pain. Now he just looks at me, trying to find answers in me, in my face, in my eyes, answers that I can't give and I know he's disappointed because he believes in me, because he always thinks that I know the answer to everything, because we have something. A kind of friendship.

"I'm so sorry, Dean". A whisper. A whisper that is honesty, even though I'm not quite sure what I'm sorry for. There are so many things I am sorry for. Sorry that he lost Sam. Sorry that I could not stop it. Sorry that I can't give him his much-needed answers. Sorry I can't take his pain away.

Dean just nods and he seems to understand. After all, he knows me better than anyone, he knows me better than I know myself. He seems to know exactly what I'm thinking, because he whispers: "There _is_ something you can do for me, Cas."  
I nod. "_Anything!_" Dean looks at me, searching for honesty in my eyes. "Do you promise?", he asks. "Yes. I promise.", I answer. It is true, I would do anything for him. Anything.

Dean gets up and I think for a second that he will leave me. But after a few moments he returns to the bed and my face drops as I see what's in his hand.  
He sits down, facing me, the gun he just picked up from the table in his hand, in the hand he stretches out to me. I just shake my head. It is true that I would do anything for him. Seriously anything. Anything but that. Because for that I was too selfish.  
He looks me in the eyes and as he speaks it breaks me, because it is one word, and he is begging. "_Please_."  
All I can do is shake my head again. I shook it slowly before, but it has now turned into a frantic shake. No. Just no.

"_Please_.", Dean begs again.

I look at him and I feel tears creeping up my eyes and my throat get soar. "I can't", I admit weakly and cannot meet his eyes.  
Dean puts down the gun and takes my face in his hands. I shiver at the touch. He forces my face in his direction and then he just looks at me. And suddenly he leans in and suddenly he presses his lips against mine. Just for a while. As he inches back my eyes are still closed. I want to open my mouth, I want to tell him everything, but Dean just whispers "I know, Cas. I love you too."

I enjoy every single fraction of a second that Dean's touch lingers on my cheeks, that I can feel the warmth of his hands on my face, that he is so close to me that I can feel his breath. I keep my eyes closed because I'm scared that if I open them I will only wake up in bed. "I have for a long time", Dean continues in a low voice and a single tear escapes my eyes. There is silence and then suddenly I hear his voice again: "I know it is too much to ask. I know, I really do. But I can't. I just can't do it. Not as long as I know that you will linger when I touch you."

Now I open my eyes. Dean is still there. My face is still in his hands. I just stare into his eyes and he stares back into mine. "You saved me", Dean whispers, still only inches away from my face, "and I am always gonna be grateful. I will always be grateful that God sent you to save me. It doesn't matter why I was saved, what matters is that it was you who saved me." Now I can't stop the tears. "You have saved me and I will always be grateful. But I need you to save me one more time. Please."  
"I can't", I just whisper back as I manage to collect my strength to utter a few words. "I'm sorry, but I can't."

Dean smiles weakly and let's go of my face. He just looks at me and nods. "I understand." He reaches for the gun and pushes it to the side a bit. He stares at it for a second, then returns to stare back into my eyes. I barely dare to touch him, but I can't help it, I just have to. I reach out and slowly pull him closer, until our lips meet in yet another kiss. A longer one this time. A more passionate one this time. Dean pulls away after a few moments and rests his forehead against mine, his eyes closed as he speaks again. "I understand that you can't do what I ask from you and I respect your decision." "Thank you", I just manage to whisper. And I can't help it, but within a second a million images flash through my mind, a million images of Dean and me kissing, of Dean and me holding hands, of Dean's and my future. Together. I can't help it, but I smile. But just for a second.

"Everything is gonna be alright, you know?", Dean whispers and presses another chaste, somehow short but lingering kiss to my lips. "You'll be just fine." A moment of silence. Then: "I understand that you can't do it, because I could never do it if it was reversed. But you have to understand that I just can't keep going like this. I can't live without him, Cas, I can't be without Sam. As much as I love you, I just can't stay. I could never live with the pain."

Everything happens fast. Dean looks me into the eyes. My smile has gone. He looks at me and cries. "I'm sorry, Cas. I am so sorry!", he whispers and it's all so fast that I can't even react. He gets off the bed, grabs the gun and as he looks at me, tears running over his cheeks, he lifts it up, holds it next to his face, lingering for a second and then he pulls the trigger.

A loud noise, the sound of death destroys the silence, lights up the darkness.

And I just sit there and want to scream until my voice dries out. And I just sit there and want to cry until I have no more tears left to cry. But I just sit there, without a single tear, without a single scream, without anything left. And I just sit there, numb.  
It takes a while, a few hours, a few days, maybe a week, I'm not sure, I have lost track of time. But what does time mean anyways right. But after some time it hits me. He is actually dead. Just dead. Just gone. Forever.  
And this time I scream. And this time I cry. Whimpers escape me and it gives me a weird kind of satisfaction. It satisfies me to suffer because I lost him, it satisfies me to just feel pain. Finally I let it all out, all the pain, all the sorrow, all the regret. Just all of it. And I try to form words, try to find words for what I'm feeling, but I can't. Because in fact there are no words invented yet that could possibly and in any way describe how I'm feeling right now, how he made me feel all along. I fall to my knees and just scream. His name. Just his name, over and over. Dean. Just over and over. But it doesn't actually matter. It never actually mattered, and it doesn't actually matter now. But it matters to me. And I know it matters because it is too late. And I just sit there and scream until my voice dries out. And I just sit there and cry until I have no more tears left to cry. And I just sit there for a while. A few hours, a few days, maybe a week, I'm not sure, I have lost track of time. But what does time mean anyways right. But after some time it all stops, suddenly, and then suddenly I just sit there. Emotionless. Numb. All and everything lost.

And then suddenly I just sit there. Left with nothing. And I just know: Nothing is ever gonna be alright again. And suddenly I just sit there. Without anything left. And suddenly I just sit there. Numb.


End file.
